


Turning Back the Clock

by S_Faith



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-01
Updated: 2006-10-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 05:44:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13540962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Faith/pseuds/S_Faith
Summary: © 1/1999 - 2003, 2006OMG, is this ever old.  It's been sitting on my computer For. Freaking. Ever, with no ending.  So I finally found an ending for it (within the last week or two) and thought I would post it.  I hope it was worth unearthing.It's a bit out there in a Heinleinian way, and is Not For Children, so, well, you have been warned.  Also, when I recently re-watched this movie, one line of dialogue spoken by Anij effectively destroys my little premise, so… I'm going to pretend she didn't say it. Nyah.





	Turning Back the Clock

**Author's Note:**

> © 1/1999 - 2003, 2006
> 
> OMG, is this ever old. It's been sitting on my computer For. Freaking. Ever, with no ending. So I finally found an ending for it (within the last week or two) and thought I would post it. I hope it was worth unearthing.
> 
> It's a bit out there in a Heinleinian way, and is Not For Children, so, well, you have been warned. Also, when I recently re-watched this movie, one line of dialogue spoken by Anij effectively destroys my little premise, so… I'm going to pretend she didn't say it. Nyah.

This was madness. Sheer stupidity. And Picard knew it.

Yet it had not stopped him from arranging for the time off, packing, booking passage via other starships to take him back to the Baku homeworld, and getting on the shuttle three days ago.

Picard shifted in his chair at the desk in his quarters and tried to get comfortable. He'd intended on getting some sleep on this last leg of the trip, but found that his stomach (performing ridiculously unwelcome acrobatics) forbade such a concept. He tried to find meaning in the stars passing by his cabin window, but they just kept gliding right on by, silently mocking him. The book before him offered little comfort, either, for he had read the same paragraph at least ten times without comprehending it.

His mind was only on the woman at the end of this journey. And that's where the stupidity began and ended. This was a woman he'd spent less than three days with, and now he was going to spend several weeks with her for his shore leave? He was acting like a hormone-addled teenager.

How had he come to this? There was no way he could continue to blame the metaphasic energy emanating from the rings of the Baku homeworld, for it had been several months since the run-in with the Son'a had happened. With the little time he'd spent there, he'd noticed the beneficial effects almost immediately: it had taken years off of his appearance, and had actually begun to notice his scalp generating hair where there'd been none since early in his career (which he continued to shave smooth). At the same time both a blessing and a curse had occurred: he could not remember when he had felt so virile, though he'd done his best to quell those particular impulses; after all, they were just a result of the metaphasic exposure. It would have been foolish to let irrational longings wrest control of logic and reason, especially after the mission ended and they had returned to the _Enterprise_. It had occurred to him that perhaps even now he was still under the influence of that revitalized libido, but he thought not. He had felt perfectly normal for a while now.

Since Beverly had gone.

It had been awfully difficult to spend any appreciable time alone with Beverly thanks to this newfound vigor, and that had put a terrible strain on their relationship. With monk-like asceticism he had taken to spending off-duty hours deep in meditation, alone in his quarters. Merely two weeks after the Son'a/Baku incident, she had unexpectedly requested an 'extended personal leave'. He'd had to consider allowing her to go away believing that he was pining over another woman (only partially true), but compared to removing the source of his constant, unceasing distraction, he decided it was in everyone's best interest to grant her permission to leave (although Deanna Troi had certainly had other ideas regarding the situation, ones he felt were unbecoming two Starfleet officers of their rank). Beverly mentioned something about rendezvousing with her son on Luna during their final, all too terse conversation, during which he'd done not much more than nod and think about domjott. It was the last he'd spoken to her in all that time. Her departure had saved his skin, metaphorically speaking. But it had also left so much up in the air….

Still in full denial that the doctor was the reason for his doubts about this trip, he forced his thoughts to other matters; namely, diplomatic relations with the Baku. Due to his unfailing concern for the people and their planet, Picard had kept a watchful eye on any policy or decision that Starfleet made regarding the Baku homeworld. Starfleet, probably in an attempt to distance itself from their exposed collaboration with the Son'a, had immediately pledged protection against any future attempts to disrupt the metaphasic energies that the rings produced or to remove the Baku from their home. The Baku had agreed to Starfleet's protection in the form of patrols and a base on the planet, provided that Starfleet kept out of their daily lives and kept their patrol base far enough away from their settlement. Yes, the Baku knew what machines were and how they worked, but they did not want to have to look at them. Especially machines of destruction.

At the same time, Starfleet had also been successful in keeping a lid on the 'fountain of youth' there; they merely cited that the Baku were pacifists who had no defense of their own and, due to increased interest in that area of space, could no longer remain defenseless. Had word of it gotten out, the planet undoubtedly would have become a Mecca for those seeking immortality and the Baku would have had no peace. The population of six hundred would have skyrocketed to six million or even six billion, and he didn't even want to think about the political power struggle over that small chunk of rock. He did not know what the patrols thought they might have been protecting, but of all of the guesses he'd heard through the grapevine, a fountain of youth was not one that had ever come up. For that he was glad. He wondered briefly if he'd have to suggest they institute a maximum tour of duty at the base, or else the truth _would_ get out. He was also beginning to wonder if a six week stay – the length of his leave – was such a very good idea.

His contact with Anij after the incident had been infrequent at best, and what she did send was mostly of an impersonal nature, aside from the invitation. From her correspondence, he learned that the Baku had apparently welcomed the Son'a back with open arms, and it was she that had facilitated finding shelter for the refugees and getting them reintegrated into their community. He was happy to hear this, though not surprised; they did not seem like the type of people who held onto old grievances.

Presently, he felt a subtle shift in the deck that indicated the engines dropping out of warp space, one of those sensitivities gained only from long service aboard starships. As the streaks outside the windows coalesced into coherent points of starlight once more, his comm badge chirped and the captain of the vessel alerted him that they would be dropping into orbit soon. He knew they would not be there long – just long enough to change the patrol staff – so he thanked the captain for his passage, replied that he would report to the transporter room at once, and immediately began collecting his things.

Picard barely remembered the walk down to the transporter room or the transport sequence itself; the next thing he knew he was looking in to the warm, smiling eyes of Anij. "Welcome back, Jean-Luc." She hadn't changed; then again, she probably hadn't changed much in three hundred years.

He reached to embrace her. "It's very good to see you again," he said softly.

She pulled back. "Come, you must be hungry. I've got some stew on and a freshly baked loaf of bread all ready for you. Trust you've had a good journey?" She took his hand and led him towards her cottage, though she needn't have bothered. He had not forgotten the layout of this village one bit.

In the dusky light of evening, the face of the occasional passer-by lit with recognition as he passed through the village square. He smiled and nodded genially; he did not remember names, much to his chagrin. His mind had been far too occupied with one particular woman. There would be time for reintroductions later.

………

The night air was distinctly cool; the mug of tea in his hand felt warm and comforting. Bathed in amber light from the various candle lamps around the kitchen, he felt happy, relaxed, and secure. It was long past sunset. The others had eaten hours before and most of them, needing to be up at dawn, had long since retired to their rooms. Anij handed him a plate of confections, which he accepted gratefully. "Delicious, Anij. Thank you. You are every bit as gracious as I remember."

Taking her seat across from him at the table, she smiled, replying softly, "Perhaps your memory is failing, then. Do you not remember the loud, stubborn woman fighting to protect her village?" 

He laughed and relaxed back into his chair, nibbling on what tasted very much like a shortbread cookie. "Perhaps it is. I believe being here will be just what I need… a most satisfying vacation." Had he really just said that? 'Satisfying vacation' from the mouth of Jean-Luc Picard? Perhaps the metaphasic energy was already interfering with his brain cells. "Great vistas, good people, charming hostess. How can I possibly go wrong?"

She laughed, and it felt good to hear it. Anij reached to stretch her arms over her head, the universal sign for weariness. He could barely take his eyes off of her; now he knew that those energies were kicking him into overdrive. "I know you've only been here long enough to eat, but I can really feel the toll the day's taken on me. I think I'd like to turn in. Do you mind?"

His heart leapt into his throat and the phrase 'schoolboy jitters' flitted through his head. "No, I wouldn't mind at all."

She smiled broadly, standing up and reaching for the empty plates. "Great. I know Marta will appreciate me joining her early."

Of all the names he'd encountered in her sporadic correspondence, this was not one he was familiar with. He wrinkled his brow and asked, "Marta?"

"Yes, of course, Marta." She stopped in mid-course to look at him. "Oh, Jean-Luc, did I really never mention her?"

He tried to act cool about it, but failed miserably. "I don't believe so. Who is she?"

"I know Terrans have equivalent terms to what she means to me…." She stopped to think of the word, continuing to the sink; all the while, Jean-Luc prepared for the figurative dagger poised above his heart to plunge inward. Finally, she said, "Partner? Significant other? Spouse? Who is, by the way, eternally in your debt for saving—"

She then noticed the change in his expression and stopped short. Even prepared for the disappointment, Picard was not able to hide his confusion and surprise. He looked crestfallen. Had it never come up that she was married? Perhaps it had, but was it possible he'd been that blinded by hormones? He felt the utter fool, and now he had six weeks to live with his embarrassment.

Anij sat again, reaching for his hand, which she held gently between two of hers. "Perhaps that is one aspect of Baku culture that hasn't yet made it into the Federation's research." She paused a moment to think, looking downward, her chestnut hair brushing along her cheek. "Since before we arrived here on this planet, the Baku culture has been polyamorous. After we got here, we began living so much longer, and it made so much more sense."

She raised her gaze to meet his eyes, and looked deeply sorry. "The _dy'noj'a_ – or… I think the word is marriages? But it also refers to the partners – formed are for life, after getting to know one another after a period of… well, it used to be months, but with the lengthening of our lifespans, it has turned into years, even decades – they are not something entered into lightly. I currently have three _dy'noj_ ; two male and one female. I have been with Kurt for ninety-five years; Erlo for sixty; and Marta for only fifteen. I have had as many as four partners at once…" She stopped, and a brief, bittersweet smile settled on her lips, the fond remembrance of _dy'noj_ passed on. When she spoke again it was with a catch in her throat. "Erlo himself has three _dy'noj_ ; Kurt, only one other. It can be very dynamic – for example, it is entirely possible to share a _dy'noj_ with your best friend or your own sister. It helps keep genetic diversity up, stress levels down – and by devoting so much time to really knowing your _dy'noj_ , stability within families is very strong."

She paused, and when she spoke again her voice became even gentler. "But here I am, going on and on, giving you an anthropology lesson when I've just handed you a _grave_ disappointment."

He looked away and found it impossible to keep a hold on her gaze. He was as transparent as glass and with the way she spoke it sounded like casual relations were unheard of in her culture. He wished she would not speak the words forming on her tongue, but he heard them nonetheless. "It would seem that you were under the impression that you were coming here to be with me. For that I am sorry."

"It was very stupid of me to make any assumptions." His voice was very quiet. His mind at once began racing to come up with alternatives for him to spend his shore leave, for he was sure that this discomfiture would be almost more than he could bear for the remainder of his time here.

"It is not your fault that you saw what appeared to be there. You did not know of our ways and it is my fault for failing to enlighten you before your journey here." She waited for him to raise his eyes to look at her before she continued. "You have a kind soul, Jean-Luc. If you were Baku, and could devote the time needed for me to get to know you, I think you would make an excellent _dy'noj_." She smiled. "I hope that is of some comfort to hear."

"It is, Anij." Feeling somewhat less mortified after her face-saving gesture, he summoned all of the good spirit he could muster and smiled. "I will admit though, it is going to be a long six weeks." He was thinking less of his embarrassment now, and more of his libido, which was feeling somewhat normal… for the moment.

She patted the back of his hand and without words she indicated she'd show him to his room. They rose and she led him upstairs to the room that he would call his for the duration, where one of the others had already deposited his bags. Taking both of his hands, she said, "I will be staying at Marta's next door, though I shall be back by morning to help prepare breakfast. If you need anything, you know where it is." He nodded, and she made to leave. Before she reached the door, she turned to say with a grin, "I look forward to your help milking the cows."

………

As he closed the door, Anij's cheery smile fell imperceptibly, and she descended the staircase, slipping past Kyr tending the fire and Erlo sleeping on the easy chair, book across his chest. She smiled briefly, kissing the top of his head. He stirred and looked up blearily. "Is our guest all settled in then?" he asked sleepily. She nodded.

"If you please though," she whispered, "not a word, nothing. What I've heard so far, I've got some work to do before he's ready."

He smiled and nodded. "See you in the morning then."

"Okay."

She was not two steps out the door when she met another coming up on the path to the house, who seemed about to speak. Anij drew her finger over her lips and shhhed, pulling her friend towards her own destination.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, nothing," replied Anij, glancing up to the second story window, the room she'd just left her guest in.

"You said we could talk when I got back… and I really need to talk. I swear, I heard his voice tonight, Anij…"

Anij sighed, feeling a little not unlike Jean-Luc's own Counselor Troi, and placed an arm around the sagging shoulders. "Come with me. We can talk at Marta's."

………

Picard was in San Francisco, although it was much less crowded than he was used to seeing. The fog had not quite lifted yet, throwing the entirety of Market Street in a hazy glow. He noticed a familiar figure up ahead: it was Beverly, and she was dressed in her surgeon's outfit of bright red, hood in place. He tried to discern what she was doing, and could not understand why she would be roaming the streets of San Francisco with her tricorder in one hand and a laser scalpel in the other. As he got closer, he realized she was offering to heal anyone in need of it. Passers-by steered clear of her path, ignoring her despite repeated pleas, which upset and infuriated her. Her face was almost as ruddy as the outfit she wore, her face was streaked with tears, and tufts of hair had begun peeking messily through the cowl of the hood. He tried to comfort her but of all the people passing by her, he was the one person she couldn't see or hear.

That's when she pointed the tricorder at herself, and upon seeing the display, looked surprised and even shocked. Then, as if divinely inspired by a truth she had not seen before that moment, she turned the laser on herself, and as the beam struck her skin, she exploded and shattered into a million flecks of gold.

………

Picard's eyes opened, and for the moment he was still bathed in chills from the dream he'd just had. The only reason he could think that he should dream about Beverly was the thought of her during the voyage yesterday, but its meaning was impossible to divine.

He found he could not easily move, and realized he was trembling. What about that dream had scared him so? Seeing her so upset or watching her dissolve to nothingness before his eyes?

There was a quiet knock on his door; he fought back instinct and instead asked for a moment. Through the window he could discern first light. He hoped he hadn't called out in his sleep and woken anyone up. He pulled on his trousers and a sweater, and opened his door to see Anij. He didn't know if he was more surprised to see her back so early in the morning, or the fact that she looked a little less than well rested, emphasized by her hair being held away from her face by a kerchief. "Good morning," she said, the light tone in her voice at odds with her weary eyes. 

He felt compelled to ask, "Everything all right?"

As if surprised to hear that he had noticed, she responded with, "Sure, just had a little trouble sleeping. Up too late for my own good. And yourself?"

He fought the impulse to imagine why, and instead replied, "Had a strange dream, but otherwise, all right."

"You look a little more like you've seen a ghost."

He smiled, almost laughing, not really answering, for he didn't know quite what to say. They left the small house and headed to where the animals were kept. She picked up a pail and a stool, and handed it to him. He took them, gulping audibly. He hadn't milked anything since he'd lived on the family farm as a boy – and he really hadn't thought her comment serious! 

He took a seat on the rickety three-legged stool, placed the pail beneath the cow's bloated udder, and began pulling at the teats. Sitting beside him on a stool of her own, Anij asked gently, "Do you want to talk about it?"

His response was barely audible. "It's a very long story, Anij, and I don't know where I could even possibly begin."

"Jean-Luc, you're forgetting where you are. I have all the time in the world. Talk to me."

He looked up to her and saw the wisdom sparkling in her eyes.

"To understand the extent to which this dream bothered me," he began softly, "you must understand the woman this dream was about, and our history together."

Picard began to speak, milking mindlessly all the while, about the red-haired woman who had been a near constant in his life from the moment he'd met her. At first she was just a young student at the Academy who'd caught his best friend's eye, eventually becoming an integral part of their group of friends: Jean-Luc, Jack, Walker and Beverly. As he sat back and watched her fall deeper in love with and then marry and bear a child for his best friend, a man who was also his subordinate on board the _Stargazer_ , Picard had kept his own silence, never letting on that he harbored feelings of his own towards Beverly.

And then, Jack's death, which was difficult on him twofold, not just because he lost his best friend, but the doubts he'd raised about his own ability to make command decisions when swayed by emotions. He second-guessed the decisions he'd made that led to Jack's death, and vowed to remove emotion from the equation as much as possible from all future directives. That meant purposely (and with much difficulty) distancing himself from Beverly at a time when they should have shared their deeply connected pain, and would have shared it under any other circumstances. Months stretched to years with very little contact, and that trend had continued until he'd requested her as Chief Medical Officer aboard the _Enterprise D_. He spoke fondly of their ongoing service together, and how their friendship had deepened into what they had at present. It was comfortable, but, he reluctantly admitted, a touch stagnant. He went into fairly detailed description regarding what had happened – or had not happened – romantically between them during the course of their long and winding relationship. He confided to Anij their various awkward moments alone together; Anij did not seem to dare blink when he told her of the Kesprytt incident. He explained how she'd left for her own shore leave so many weeks previously with nary a word since, and how much he feared he would not see her again.

Then he told Anij of the dream he'd had the night before, how the image of Beverly shattering into a burst of gold had been one of the most haunting he'd ever seen. From the look on her face, it seemed that Anij understood why he felt that way.

Finally at the end of it all, he sighed, looking down to a very full pail, and feeling as if he had just had a great weight lifted from his chest. Indeed, it must have been obvious, because she said, "You carried that burden for long enough. I'm glad to have taken it from your shoulders."

She stood from her seat and paced, petting the cow's muzzle, seeming to cogitate on what he had said. "I don't get it," she began tentatively. "I know that Baku longevity is artificially induced, yet the three hundred years I have lived are real enough. So are the experiences. And even with the benefit of that knowledge, I fail to truly understand a story like yours."

He furrowed his brows. "I'm not sure I know where you're going with this."

"Human lifespans have been extended greater than one hundred years in this day and age, but still, you will eventually break down and die. Forgive my bluntness, but at this stage of life, you have more days behind than you will have before you. So what I fail to understand is why you do not accept what is obviously so."

He waited for the other shoe to drop.

"Beverly is meant to be."

"'Meant to be' what?"

Anij laughed delicately. "Jean-Luc, sometimes I fear you would not recognize your own nose apart from your face. That you do not acknowledge the love you have for her would be frightening if I didn't know you to be the kind and gentle man that you are." 

He did not know what to say.

She offered him a cockeyed grin. "I have not know you for long, but I do not believe I have ever seen you speechless before."

At once he rushed to offer an explanation. "She knows that I love her. She has for years."

"Yet you do nothing about it? I do not believe you to be a fool, Jean-Luc Picard, so then could it only perhaps be... cowardice?"

"That's not fair." Now Picard got angry. "You have no idea what it's like to invest so much of yourself into something that might be ended by something as routine as an away team mission!"

Anij refused to rise to his challenge, remaining calm and serene. "Don't I? You don't think in three hundred years I have not been hurt by lost love? Shall I tell you about Bertu, who perished when he lost his footing on the edge of a cliff during a search for a lost goat? Or about Padma, who died during Kyr's birth? Did my love for them mean I had to stop living?"

He was immediately regretful for his words. "Anij, I shouldn't have…"

She waved her hand. "It's all right. We all speak without the benefit of thinking first. I know that you are sorry. I can see it on your face." She took his hand to reinforce that she was indeed not angry with him. "Just answer me this question: What is it about me that you are attracted to? Think about it. We will speak of this again later. For now, I must finish preparing the morning meal."

She stood, taking the pail from the ground, and headed for the house. He merely sat where he was, too stunned to speak. Sometimes he wondered if the Baku weren't telepathic, because Anij seemed to know that every woman he'd been attracted to in the last twenty years possessed pale imitations of those qualities he loved best in Beverly. Stubborn? Strong-willed? In spades. Graceful? Willowy? Watching that woman move, even during medical maneuvers, had always been like watching a dancer on stage. Intelligent? Persuasive? Secretly Picard had believed for years that her intelligence far surpassed his own.

Damn. Why did it always take outside light to illuminate the most obvious things?

He stood to head back for the house, brushing the hay from his slacks, ready to give Anij his answer and offer more humble apologies… and thanks.

He tromped back into the house with those very words poised on lips, but as he swung open the kitchen door, he very literally was struck dumb, for either he was dreaming again, or hallucinating, or had somehow traveled backwards in time. That would be the only way to explain what he was seeing there in the sun-bathed kitchen.

"Beverly?"

It was barely a whisper that she shouldn't even have even heard. But she had. She glanced up at him, very real, and also very surprised. He didn't know what stunned him more: the fact that she was there, or the way she looked. 

Beverly had always been a beautiful woman, and that beauty had not faded as she grew older. But it looked to Picard as if the years had fallen away and left behind a younger version of the woman he'd seen a little over two months ago. Her face was now smooth and nearly unlined, creamy pale, yet radiant. Her hair had grown almost a half-meter since he'd seen her last, and those vibrant red tresses were drawn into a thick plait that curled softly at the end. Her figure appeared unchanged as far as he could tell through her loose cotton dress; she had always remained fit and trim, yet he could only imagine that the rest of her too must have been restored to a more youthful perfection. The end result left her looking very much like she had around the time Wesley had been born.

She'd paused what she was doing (making pastries, apparently); now she smiled. Smiled broadly. "Oh my… Jean-Luc! What are you doing here?"

"Shore leave." He had a million questions, like how had _she_ come to be there. Wasn't she supposed to be on Luna? He tried very hard to keep his tone neutral.

She ran to him, and threw her arms around him, undoubtedly getting flour on his back. "What a pleasant surprise!"

Considering the uncertain terms on which they had parted, her smile, and now her enthusiastic reaction, was somewhat unexpected. "You can say that after the way I behaved towards you before you left?"

She rounded the table, and went back to finishing her pastries. "Come on. It dawned on me as soon as we got back what was wrong with you. Commander Riker was experiencing the same thing. Besides, I learned long ago not to take it personally when you have feelings you can't handle." She laughed, digging her hand into a bag of powdered sugar and sprinkling the baked things with it. "Sometimes I think you wish you could just cut it off—" Her free hand flew to cover her mouth in horror. "Oh, Jean-Luc– I can't believe I just said that. I think that along with the rejuvenating properties to the body, this metaphasic energy has eroded my internal editor. I do apologize."

To her amazement, Picard began to laugh, lightened by the knowledge that she was not harboring ill will after their last ordeal here. "There is no need to, Beverly. I have, in fact, missed it terribly." She seemed relieved, and brushed her hands together briskly, sending powdered sugar into the air, creating an almost magical glow around her as sunlight struck the tiny dust-like particles. And of course there was Beverly, grinning impishly with a smudge of powdered sugar on her chin, looking adorable, beautiful and sexy all at once.

She raised the tray of pastries and indicated a second on the prep table. "Come on, you. Help me carry the _houta_ to the breakfast table."

He did as instructed and followed her to the common eating area.

Upon arriving, he saw among the sea of faces Anij's own and also saw the unmistakable smirk playing upon her lips, which only confirmed what he'd begun to suspect: that she had known all the while, that she had deliberately set him up to come face to face with the woman he'd only just poured his heart out about to her. Conspirator! Not that he was upset. He was so pleased at seeing Beverly again after his personal epiphany, that he wanted to instead thank Anij. The question was, did Beverly know he was here? She'd seemed genuinely surprised, so he thought not. But he wanted to ask anyhow.

A short while into the beginning of the meal, Picard turned to Beverly and asked her those things he had been wondering. She smiled demurely, setting her teacup down on the wooden table. "I knew it was likely you would take your leave here, but I had no idea that you were actually here."

Anij interjected, "He seemed yesterday to be quite looking forward to his vacation here."

Her reaction was quite similar to what he imagined it might be: eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. "I didn't think Jean-Luc Picard _ever_ looked forward to a vacation. This place must be _very_ special."

Hoping to change the subject, and to cover up his embarrassment, he said, "You didn't answer my question. What about Luna?"

She smiled. "I met Wes as planned, but he saw that I was not happy bouncing around my flat there like a pea in a coffee can. I told him about this place and he was fascinated." He idly wondered what she'd told him; he thought perhaps he saw a fleeting sadness in her eyes. "I guess I needed to get away from technology and just be one with the land and the people, and somehow, he knew. So you got here last night?"

He nodded, realizing he wasn't the only one good at changing the subject. But for the time being he let it go.

"Hmm." She chomped into another pastry. "Guess you haven't had any time for exploration. You have to let me take you to the spot they call Eternity Point. So incredibly beautiful!"

He smiled, then chuckled, and finally could not contain his laughter. She looked to him with questioning eyes, and for a moment, he almost expected a show of the old fireworks he had come to know so well. He explained, "I haven't seen you so… energetic since your Academy days."

"Amazing what this place does for you," she replied.

"I can only just begin to imagine."

Anij cleared her throat. "I see that Kurt needs me. If you'll excuse me…"

They both nodded and Anij left their table. Picard thought it seemed a little too conveniently timed, but he didn't care. The carefree aura surrounding Beverly was infectious and he realized all of a sudden that he missed being around her. He especially wanted to be with Beverly alone; it seemed urgent that he should disclose his revelations of just a short while ago.

Finishing up his breakfast, Picard wiped the corners of his mouth, and asked, "About this Eternity Point…?"

She smiled again, a bright smile of infinite happiness. "We can go as soon as you want."

"Let's go now." He wondered why she looked so surprised, but didn't care, as long as she consented to go with him. They walked together towards where Anij was speaking with who must have been Kurt, a very handsome, dark-haired tower of a man. Kurt's eyes crinkled with his smile as he indicated to Anij that they had company approaching.

"We're going for a hike," said Jean-Luc, simply out of consideration for his hostess.

Oddly, though, Anij looked to Beverly. "So soon after breakfast?"

Beverly nodded.

"We'll miss you at lunch. Come, I'll pack you a satchel."

The two women walked towards Anij's home, leaving Picard alone with Anij's partner of so many years. He barely knew what to say to the man. Kurt looked at him genially and asked, breaking the ice, "So you are Beverly's _dy'noj_?"

Picard laughed lightly. "Well, not really, but the amount of time we have known each other would certainly qualify us to be."

"But you _are_ the one Anij said Beverly spoke of. Jean-Luc, right?"

He nodded, suddenly curious about how much else Beverly had said about him. "And you are Kurt. It is a pleasure to meet you." He extended his hand and fortunately, the handshake seemed to be something Kurt was familiar with. Not surprisingly, Kurt had a firm, strong grip.

Kurt's green eyes glittered as he spoke. "Anij is certainly happy to have Beverly's friendship. In the weeks Beverly has been with us, they have become very close. At the same time Anij has been very happy to learn more about you through her, for she is very fond of you. Has Anij mentioned our approval?"

Bewildered, Picard responded vaguely, "I don't think she has."

Kurt smiled, his angular face widening. "Ah. Well, you will be pleased to know that you've got it. Though I'm surprised that she didn't say so and stay with you last night."

Now he was really confused, but the return of the women prevented further elaboration. His afternoon companion said with a grin, "We're all set; let's go."

………

The walk through the coniferous forest ordinarily would have been one of wonder and awe for Picard. He had not seen trees so enormous since traversing through the ancient redwoods in Sonoma back on Earth. There was, however, the comment of Kurt's that he could not get out of his head. Approval? For what? It sounded very much like some kind of permission for an intimate liaison had been granted, but that made absolutely no sense given what Anij had told him the night before. She'd made it abundantly clear that recreational sex was frowned upon — or at least he thought she had. So what on earth had Kurt been talking about?

"Jean-Luc, hold on."

Beverly's voice cut through his reverie and he turned to notice she had sat back against a rock.

"Sorry. Didn't realize you'd stopped."

She held out one hand. "Water bottle, please?"

He took a seat beside her, dug into the satchel for the water bottle, and gave it to her. She gulped down a thirsty swig, then handed it back. "Thanks."

He nodded, taking a drink too. "We almost there?"

"Almost."

Some minutes of silence must have passed, and the preoccupation with this enigma must have been evident on his face, for she asked, "Penny for your thoughts?"

He shook his head, trying to make light of it. "Nothing. Just an odd thing Kurt said to me about having their 'approval' — but for what I can't possibly guess."

Beverly smiled, though she looked distinctly uncomfortable. "An honor, undoubtedly. You've got Kurt's, Marta's, and Erlo's consent to… well… sleep with Anij should you choose to."

He did not know what to say. Logic kicked into overdrive and he attempted to puzzle out why Anij would lead him to believe that a physical intimacy was not possible, yet all the while, her own partners had granted permission for just such a thing, and she full well knew it. Therefore, she had _deliberately_ not told him of that part of the _dy'noj'a_ dynamic. 

Why?

There could only be one reason, and Anij's voice echoed in his ear:

_"Beverly is meant to be."_

He could only manage aloud a lame "Oh."

She stood and slipped the satchel onto her shoulder. He could tell there was a question on the tip of her tongue, but she dared not ask it: _so will you share her bed?_ He could have ended her strife right there with a simple statement, that he might have accepted such an offer yesterday — but not now.

She, however, had deemed the conversation over by walking away. He followed her and tried to keep pace with her. However, it seemed as if she purposely kept walking a little bit faster, keeping just one step ahead of him. It took great effort to keep up with her. Finally, after many silent minutes and gulped-down breaths trying to match her pace, he called out to her, "Beverly!"

She stopped.

"Have mercy on an old man's legs!" he exclaimed. "Is there something wrong?"

She laughed and the mirth on her face might have fooled anyone who knew her casually, but did not fool him.

"Nothing at all. Just the home stretch. Anxious to get there. In fact, it's just through those trees."

She gestured forward, indicating that he should walk through first, which he did. He gasped when he saw the vista before him: a panoramically awe-inspiring view of the landscape from a vantage point far, far above it. He hadn't even realized they had been ascending during their walk, but here they were, in this clearing a safe distance from the edge of the cliff proper. Mountains, sky, trees, such glorious vastness and beauty – no wonder they called it Eternity Point. It was breathtaking.

"Great, isn't it?" she said, taking a place beside him. "Makes one feel rather small and insignificant."

He looked over to her, her face aglow with sunshine, her eyes closed, and a smile on her pretty mouth, and he felt he could no longer hold back those things he'd wanted to share with her since the epiphany he'd had that morning.

"Beverly."

She opened her eyes and looked to him.

He then found he did not know the words to say.

"Yes?" she asked.

His tongue felt rather like it had lost all will to move. How could he say all that he wanted to say so that it didn't sound trite or insincere? Finally he simply said: "I love you."

She smiled again and said only matter-of-factly, "I know." She closed her eyes and raised her face to the sun again, stretching her arms to her sides as if she could collect the sun's warmth.

"No, no, I mean I _love_ you."

"Yes, Jean-Luc, I _know_." She did not even bother to open her eyes, but the smile did not leave her face.

How maddening! How anti-climactic! She was not going to make this easy for him.

Finally, he reached out for her hand and grasped it, tugging her quickly towards him, startling the breath out of her. Wrapping one arm about her waist, he said, "I _mean_ , I love you." And he kissed her, savoring the feel of her mouth on his, completely encircling her with his arms.

He pulled back; she looked confused.

"I think I get it now. I think."

He drew a finger along her cheekbone.

"But I thought you came here for Anij."

"Originally, I did." His voice was tender. "She however had the sense to make me question what it was about her that I was attracted to. I realized it was those things that reminded me most of you."

She smiled. At first it was a sweet, pretty, demure smile. Before he could blink it became a mischievous grin.

And before he could blink again he felt himself being pushed back by the shoulders, and suddenly, the world was moving backwards until he hit the ground in a pile of arms and legs.

He was still contemplating the damage to his backside when he realized that Beverly had moved with him so that her lovely face was hovering closely over his, her hair cascading down. She maneuvered on top of him, kissing him full on the mouth. He instinctively returned the embrace, holding her against him, savoring the feel of her lips on his, the weight of her body atop his.

"I can't tell you how long I have wanted this to happen."

He wondered whether she meant his admission, or this impromptu liaison.

She then whispered huskily in his ear, "So you'll forgive me if I suddenly I have this overwhelming desire to make up for lost time."

All was clear now.

The reality of having her like this hit home all at once, and the impulse to make love to her overtook all sensibility. He felt his hands, quite of their own accord, slide under the hem of her cotton shift, brush up along the backs of her legs to her hips, tracing a lazy circle on her buttocks (no underclothes, he noted), and then brush against the sensitive skin where her legs and buttocks met. He heard a moan low in her throat, as she shifted her body into his caress.

"Would it be gratuitous of me to say that I wanted you, Beverly?" he said, his voice surprisingly gravelly.

"Uh-huh," she managed, dropping one knee to either side of his body so that his fingers might continue stroking against an even more sensitive area of skin. "So let's do it."

He paused for a moment. "Right here, in the open field?"

"I'm certainly not talking about back in your bedroom."

He knew that tone. She meant business.

She pulled him so that he was sitting up, and she straddled his lap, pulling her dress further up. She teased him mercilessly with her tongue and teeth, running her hands over as much of his body as she could reach. She could not have failed to notice his own desire. She fell backwards, pulling him with her. 

He felt as if he had no say in the matter, really, but was so lost in the moment that he didn't much care. To describe her arousal as frenetic would have been an understatement of a global nature, judging from the urgency with which she was proceeding. Her fevered lust had washed over him and he matched her every movement to the best of his ability. She bucked beneath him, biting her lower lip, muttering something vaguely vulgar suggesting she wanted more. He wasn't about to be asked twice and wasted no time. As he did, she arched up against him impossibly, crying out so loudly that he was sure it would echo through the valley.

Both of them at this point were bathed in sweat; Picard could feel his passion building more quickly than ever. Frantic thrusts were met with excited moans; she directed them yet again by rolling them over onto his back. She then used gravity to her advantage, moving herself up and down with her well-muscled (and yes, taut) body. Within moments she tossed her head and arched backwards, coming with an explosive force and a cry that made the others seem like mere whispers. Her ecstasy only triggered his release as he continued thrusting up into her, hands on her hips to keep their bodies joined, sustaining both of their orgasms for what felt like an eternity – in fact, Picard wondered if he might have even inadvertently invoked the time-slowing sensation that Anij had showed him. 

Eventually they fell back to the grass, exhausted; as they lay there together, suffusing the coolness of the grass into their bodies, he thought lazily about how he'd always imagined his first time with her to be slow, patient, and somewhat romantic, not frenzied and raging as it had been, like two desperate kids. Not that he was complaining; his head still swam with the effects and he was loathe to move. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had sex that good. He did manage to look over to where she lay next to him; her eyes were closed and she was taking deep, controlled breaths. She looked so peaceful that he wondered if she hadn't fallen to sleep. But she must have sensed him looking at her, for she opened her eyes and offered him a crooked smile, before sitting up on one elbow and reaching out with her free hand.

His eyes widened when he realized what she was doing. He was barely recovered from their first tumble in the grass, and she was ready for round two.

It should have occurred to him that her appearance was not the only thing about her that had been restored to a youthful vigor.

………

"I'm sorry, Jean-Luc."

It must have been the twentieth time she'd said that since they had begun walking back to the village. It was twilight and they were nearly home. Picard had his arm around Beverly's waist, and it must have looked a pathetic sight, the way he leaned so much on her for support.

He was quite literally having problems walking.

"Stop apologizing."

"If I only had my medical equipment…"

He stopped walking altogether, turned to look at her, and fixed her with the most menacing gaze he could muster in his pitiful state. "Beverly," he began in a rough whisper. "If this is the price I have to pay for that afternoon out on the plain, I have gotten the bargain of the century. Now stop apologizing."

In her own way, she looked chastened. But she could not help adding, "Give yourself six days and something like this afternoon shouldn't be a problem any more."

She swore that he actually _blushed_.

They entered the village and made immediately for Anij's house. Anij was tending to a swath of night blooming flowers that had just begun to open, and when she heard footfalls on the road, she turned and saw Picard limping. She gasped. "Are you all right?"

He nodded, passing his hostess by with much creaking and groaning and, after entering the house, he sat in an overstuffed chair. "Hot bath would be nice."

"Say no more." Anij headed towards the rear of the house — but not before turning and throwing a mad grin at Beverly.

………

Morning came all too soon, and as the first rays of the day came streaming in Picard was almost afraid to move. The hot bath had been a gift from the heavens, a wonderful mineral salt concoction that made him forget he even _had_ muscles. But now, he was certain that those muscles would strain to be heard. 

He sighed. Eventually, he would have to move. There was no getting around it.

He heard the faint creaking of the bedroom door. His hand shot out (hm, he thought, didn't hurt much at all) and found the bed beside him empty. He remembered fondly the tender ministrations of the previous evening, and the satisfaction of curling up to sleep with the woman he had loved for so long. 

Slowly, almost shyly, a pair of luminous blue eyes peeked around the corner. It was of course Beverly's lovely face, and when she confirmed that he was awake, she smiled at him.

"Morning."

He smiled gingerly, certain that that would have hurt as well.

"Tea?" he began.

She must have been experiencing a psychic kind of morning, and came into the room with a tray holding a Japanese tea pot and two small tea cups. "Earl Grey, hot," she finished tenderly, setting the tray down on the bedside table, closing the door behind her, and sitting on the bed beside him, clad in a simple cotton shift. He idly wondered how long she'd been awake. She ran her fingers along his cheek, to rest on his shoulder, asking, "How are you feeling?"

He smiled, closing his eyes briefly. "Well, I suppose my muscles would rebel against me if I tried to get up. Other than that…"

He saw the fleeting worry on her face, and asked, "Hey, what's wrong?" He pushed himself up onto his elbows, involuntarily cringing with the ache.

"Wrong?" She laughed lightly. "Nothing _should_ be wrong, should it? …and yet, I don't know where to begin."

Sitting up fully, he held his arms out to her. It was not unusual to offer her a warm embrace and consolation when she needed it, but never before had he done so while covered only by scant layers of cotton bed sheets and a quilt. She was also acutely aware of stepping into new territory, and tentatively accepted his embrace, resting her cheek on his bare shoulder.

"Penny for your thoughts," he whispered, curling his arms around her.

She seemed to consider her words for some time before speaking, and when she did, it was apparently a completely different subject. "Seeing Wesley again was strange, Jean-Luc." She sat up. "It's hard sometimes to remember he's not the child I brought with me on board the Enterprise. I know, rationally, that he's grown up. Hell, more than grown up. But he met me on Luna. We sat and talked, peer to peer, not mother to son."

She stood, paced a bit, seemingly fascinated by the trees bending in the gentle wind. "I don't think I can describe to you how odd that was for me. Especially when one moment he's asking me a million questions about technical upgrades on the new ship, the latest mission on the Baku homeworld, and then took me by surprise by asking me… he asked about you and me. And the look of shock on his young face when I told him the reality of our relationship, how he suddenly became an innocent child all over again as he asked me, 'Why not, mom?' And suddenly, yes, it sounded ludicrous! 'Why not' indeed! For so many years I've known you loved me, and you knew I loved you, you must have… and how many times we came so close to tearing down that wall… 

"I think I started laughing and crying at the same time. So much wasted time. 

"It was his idea. Coming here. That much of what I said yesterday was true. He was sure that if I met you here – and he was _certain_ you'd be here – I'd certainly 'win out' over 'some other woman'. So like a son to say so about his mother." She laughed lightly, as if trying to pretend the very notion hadn't appealed to her. "Oh, I had my own reasons as well. I knew I could come damn close to reclaiming the youth I'd had when we met, make those years disappear, or at least fool myself into believing they had for just a little while. I asked if it would be all right according to Traveler rules for him to bring me here, and Wesley was all too happy to oblige; you know he's always been fond of…" She paused, looking over her shoulder to meet his eyes. "… _loved_ you." He nodded – after all, Wes had been like a son to him, and thought perhaps this had been something the young man had wanted for a long time.

"I arrived here with no warning at all… and the woman I viewed as my rival? Treated me like an honored guest. She gave me a room in Marta's home, showed nothing but kindness to me, always had a moment for me when I needed it. Didn't take long for me to think of her not as a foe, but as a friend. I can't tell you how many nights we sat up far too late talking about… things that I just couldn't discuss with my son. She has a real gift for drawing the longest of histories out of a person, without saying much about her own feelings in return."

He could only nod. 

"I was surprised to see you yesterday morning. I had no idea you were here yet – though I _should_ have known, because I could have sworn I'd heard your voice the night before…" She laughed. "And Anij told me I was hearing things. From the look in your eyes, I thought for certain you were as happy to see me again as I was to see you."

She sighed. "Then came our conversation on the path, about the approval from the others… and with that I began to think maybe I was wrong all along. That you were here for no other reason but to be with Anij. Sure, you were happy to see me, but you'd moved on to greener pastures." She paused long enough to sit on the edge of the bed again, and look at him. "Out in the field out there, I really thought you were going to tell me that while you loved me, you were going to take her up on the offer. I was preparing myself to accept it, even though I didn't like it.

"So you completely caught me off guard, told me something I was hoping to hear all along. And…"

Did he imagine the pink flush that raced across her cheek? "'And' what?"

"…and then hormones got the better of me, and I acted… like I did. In a manner completely unlike the woman you know. I guess there's a small part of me that's afraid I've somehow screwed it up all over again."

He reached out, and took hold of her hands in his. 

"Beverly. Let me begin by saying you needn't have gone through the trouble of making yourself younger again just for me. I'd still feel the way I feel if I were a hundred and you were a doddering old woman of eighty. But… I am touched at your effort." He paused, leaned forward, and whispered conspiratorially, "And quite pleased with the, er, _results_." 

She lifted her gaze to meet his, her blue eyes twinkling devilishly, her mouth set in a playful smirk. Something within him stirred.

"I am glad you approve."

"My dear, I have always approved."

He pulled her hands gently towards him, and they leaned into one another, their lips meeting for a tender kiss. Sparks ignited very quickly and as the kiss deepened, she found herself climbing upon his lap, one leg on either side of him, dress hem pushed quite far up.

As she sat up so that he might release the fasteners on the dress open to her waist, he traced a delicate line between her breasts to her navel, and she whispered, "Oh, I am _so_ glad we've come to our senses, Jean-Luc."

………

The teapot was stone cold when Picard thought about it again. He opened his sleepy eyes and looked down to the reposing Beverly, her tresses cascading across the fine mat of hair on his chest and asked her if she was happy.

"The word happy," she murmured, "is entirely inadequate." She lifted her chin to look at him.  
"Corny as it sounds? I feel like some part of me I never knew was broken has been healed."

His dream came back to him with a startling force of recollection, and she screwed up her brows at seeing his face change subtly but perceptibly. He explained the dream to her, seeing now that what he had been most afraid of was that she would some day no longer see him as anything but part of the landscape, leaving all memories of his friendship and love forgotten and in the past. He was afraid that she would no longer need him.

"Even if all of this had never happened, Jean-Luc, I'd always need you." She rested her cheek against his chest, as she tightened her embrace around his waist.

He lazily began combing her hair with his fingers as he spoke softly. "The night I arrived, I had every reason to think that I would be sleeping with Anij. I was attracted to her, and I knew she was attracted to me. And I was coming to spend weeks on this planet at her invitation. I guess I read more into it than there was." He paused and realized with the benefit of hindsight that her invitation must have instead been a ploy to get him to the planet because of Beverly. The little sneak. "Then she told me about the whole _dy'noj'a_ thing… but omitting the part that Kurt's comment brought to light. I was more than a little disappointed to be sent off to bed alone, I'll admit.

"Then that night I had the dream with you in it. In the process of explaining why something that seemed so innocuous would rattle me so badly, Anij managed to drag our whole history out of me."

He heard a slight chuckle rumble out of Beverly's throat.

"So it really was a conspiracy," she muttered with a grin.

"After she heard my _woeful_ tale" — Beverly laughed — "she proceeded to tell me what a fool I was for not seeing what was directly in front of me. And of course she was right… but at the time I thought perhaps she was just exceptionally insightful. Little did I know you were actually here.

"On the way from the barn to the house, I had made up my mind to let you know as soon as I could. Then I saw you, and knew it would be sooner than later."

She turned her head and kissed him.

"I have to give Anij credit. She could have easily taken me to bed, but she knew what would be waiting for me the next day. Not many people would have done that, and I admire her for it. For many things." He sighed, closing his eyes.

A silent laugh rocked her chest. "Jean-Luc, regardless of what you might say, you really are just an old romantic at heart."

He wanted dearly to argue the point with her, but could find no words, so instead, he kissed her again.

………

Picard knew that all good things must come to an end, and as he stuffed the last article of clothing into his cylindrical travel bag, he had known all along that this particular shore leave would be no different. However, he was satisfied knowing that the happiness that he had found at last with Beverly would not be ending.

A voice from the hallway called, "All set? The shuttle is going to be here in fifteen minutes." Beverly appeared in the doorway.

He nodded. "Just having another look around before we go, make sure we don't leave anything behind."

"Anij knows where to find us even if we did." She ran a hand along his shoulder; he turned to look at her.

"This is going to be strange," he said thoughtfully. At her confused and worried look, he elaborated: "Balancing both a command and you as a—" He stopped abruptly. What was she, exactly? It seemed ridiculous to call her a 'girlfriend'; he had never felt comfortable with the formal-sounding 'partner'; 'lover' implied to him that it was only about sex, which it wasn't, as much as he enjoyed that aspect of this relationship; and they weren't exactly married by Earth standards.

"It's all right." Beverly smiled at his inability to find the right word, and he was grateful. "The fact that you're even willing to consider it now is good enough for me." 

He smiled, and leaned in to kiss her. As they departed the room together, he said confidentially, "I suppose I could call you my _dy'noj_."

Beverly laughed lightly. "'Fiancée' will do just fine."

He stopped, raised an eyebrow, and met her challenging gaze.

'Fiancée' it would be, then.

_The end._


End file.
